


Of All The Gin Joints

by dontwakeme_causeimdreaming



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Two idiots refusing to acknowledge their emotions whoops, bellarke AU, lowkey texting au, mild swearing, travel AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 07:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16614365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontwakeme_causeimdreaming/pseuds/dontwakeme_causeimdreaming
Summary: Bellarke fic based off how my roommate's sister met her soulmate when she accidentally ran into him in multiple countries on her soul search around the world





	Of All The Gin Joints

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so don't judge me too harshly please  
> *Disclaimer: I do not own the 100*

**Morocco, six and a half years ago**

          The scent of black pepper and cinnamon permeated Clarke’s nostrils as she strolled through the souq. Around her, the sky was painted with red and pink brush strokes, and the evening air began to cool. A slight breeze brushed against her, and not for the first time that day was she glad she had chosen to dress conservatively in elephant pants and a pashmina.

         Clarke stopped at the end of an aisle on the outskirts of the souq, and she noticed a single market stall where an elderly woman was selling couscous. She wore a toothy grin as she nodded vigorously along to something another customer seemed to be telling her. As Clarke halted in front of the stall, the saleswoman chortled. Clarke stood unnoticed, and watched the pair interact.

          After only a short moment, she placed the identity of the other customer. He was a member of the same study abroad program as her. Berkley, maybe? He stood nearly half a foot taller than her, and she noticed a smattering of freckles across his nose. Most notably, however, was his mop of unruly black hair, which he animatedly ran his hands through as he spoke.

          The pair finally noticed Clarke, and Bello? offered her a wide smile in recognition. The woman exchanged a warm bowl of couscous for ten of her dirhams, and only once she paid did she notice that Bellamy (yes, that was his name!) stood waiting for her still.

          “Mind if I join you?” He asked, his smile suddenly shy.

          Clarke nodded. She and Bellamy rounded the corner, and simultaneously stopped as the labyrinth of stalls overwhelmed their senses. Rugs and tapestries of every color were strewn on tables, and a stall of wind chimes rang in the breeze in synchrony. Crowds of people bustled through the thin lane, and she could hear customers haggling with vendors in loud voices.

          The pair walked in companionable silence, often stopping to stroke handkerchief patterned robe or soft blankets. Clarke traded her leather bracelet for a pair of babouches, and bought a ceramic jewelry bowl for only 25 dirhams. Bellamy traded his copy of _The Iliad_ for an authentic Djellaba. After browsing for a while longer, both began to walk back toward their residence hall.

          Clarke broke the silence first. “So, what do you study back at Ark U?”

          He told her how he studies history, but his main area of interest is Greek and Roman history. He gestured toward his Djellaba, and Clarke let out a barking laugh thinking of the book he traded (“Don’t worry, Princess,” he had told her with a wink. “It’s not my only copy”).

          Clarke told Bellamy about her art degree. He was easy to talk to, and she found herself telling him about her mom: how she wanted Clarke to pursue pre-med like her, how she constantly worked, and when she wasn’t working she was stressing about work, but most importantly how Clarke didn’t want to be like her. Bellamy nodded along as she spoke. When it was clear Clarke had finished speaking, he brushed his hand against her own, squeezing tight as they continued to walk.

 +++

           After that, Clarke and Bellamy saw a lot more of each other. Clarke frequented his dorm after her classes, and the two would share tagine for dinner before setting off for the evening. They often went to pubs to watch football, and sometimes even joined in scrimmages with the locals after class. She and Bellamy even went as far as to take a cooking class one night because “Clarke, we’re in Morocco to learn about the culture so we should **learn** the culture”

          One night Clarke sat on the foot of Bellamy’s twin bed, her back pressed to the wall and a bottle of beer in her hand. She smiled lazily and rolled her eyes as Bellamy argued with his roommate Murphy about Andrew Jackson’s presidency.

          “Clarke, would you please tell your boyfriend that his opinion is wrong, and that President Jackson did whatever he had to do to protect his people,” Murphy pleaded as Bellamy pantomimed banging his head into a wall.

          She guffawed, and then shrugged. “Sorry Murphy, I’m gonna have to agree with Bell on this one. The Trail of Tears doesn’t exactly scream ‘I’m a great president’ to me”.

          Bellamy didn’t even have time to flash Murphy a smug expression. His brain had frozen, and his speech had betrayed him. Murphy called him her boyfriend, and Clarke didn’t object? She doesn’t think that they’re dating, does she?

          As Bellamy continued to splutter, Murphy got up and left the room “to go hang out with noble people who understand sacrifices for the greater good”. Clarke cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at his lack of composure, so Bellamy shook those thoughts from his head and sent her a reassuring smile back. Then, Clarke's phone buzzed with an incoming message.

           **Murphy** : are you and Bellamy fucking rn

           **Clarke** : wtf no

           **Murphy** : good, then you guys are free to hangout in Gina's room

           **Murphy:** room 303

           **Clarke** : who's Gina?

           **Murphy:** just come

          **Murphy** : we have booze

          **Clarke** : be right there

          As soon as Clarke’s phone dinged, she hopped off of Bellamy’s bed, grabbed his hand, and began to tug him toward the door. He laughed as he allowed the much smaller girl to drag him along. After they rounded two corners and ran the length of a narrow corridor, she skidded to a stop in front of room 303 and rapped loudly on the door three times.

          A girl with long curly brown hair opened the door wide and flashed a lopsided smile at the pair. She gestured for them to come inside, where Clarke could hear Murphy arguing (again) about his favorite presidents. (“He’s going to lose all of his friends at this rate if he keeps fleeing whenever people disagree with him,” Bellamy whispered with a snort).

          The girl introduced herself as Gina Martin and her roommate as Maya Vie. The two girls both came from Mount Weather University, which Clarke knew as the local private university in Arkadia. Murphy explained how he recognized an American accent in his Turf Grass and Insects class, and immediately hit it off with Gina (Bellamy scoffed at this, but Murphy ignored him). Gina clarified that she and Maya are the only two students from MWU, and therefore desperate for friends. Murphy pinched her side in good humor, and Bellamy and Clarke found themselves laughing along.

  +++

          Clarke saw less and less of Bellamy after meeting Maya and Gina. And after he and Gina started dating, she stopped seeing him altogether. Whenever he wasn’t in class, he was with Gina. By the time May came around and she was packed up to return to the States, Clarke could count on both hands the amount of times she had seen Bellamy since that night.

 

 

**+++**

**The Netherlands, five and a half years ago**

          Clarke had returned to Ark U for her senior year the previous fall and returned to the monotony of student life. She still saw Murphy frequently, though he never mentioned Bellamy and Clarke never asked.

          Before she knew it, May rolled around and she walked across the stage to collect her diploma. While Wells had plans to go on to law school and follow in his father’s footsteps, Clarke knew she wasn’t ready to settle down (regardless of what her mother thought).

          One week before graduation, Clarke and Murphy sat on the floor of his kitchen with two empty wine bottles between them. A thought suddenly flew into Clarke’s head, and she grabbed onto it as a drowning victim would cling to a life raft.

          “Murphy,” she slurred without a trace of humor. “You have no life plans. Neither do I. So let’s make some!”

          Murphy looked at her with healthy skepticism. “You’re not proposing to me or anything, are you?”

          Clarke scoffed and reached out to smack his shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m proposing that we travel until we find what we’re looking for”.

          So that was how only two days after her graduation from Ark U, Clarke found herself at the international airport with a one-way ticket to the Netherlands.

          Having booked their flights with only a few days to spare, Clarke and Murphy weren’t able to book seats together. Not that Clarke minded, of course. She brought her sketchbook and colored pencils to entertain her, and she’d be damned if she let Murphy’s incessant complaining distract her from her drawings.

          When Clarke found seat 36C, however, she found that life had other plans for her flight. She balanced on her tiptoes as she attempted to stuff her suitcase into the overhead compartment before a hand was placed on her hip to steady her.

          She ripped the hand off her hip and whirred around on one foot, ready to inform this man that she’s an independent woman who can dispose of her own suitcase without a stranger groping her thank you very much. When she locked eyes with the stranger, Clarke realized she recognized those dark brown eyes. She allowed her eyes to drift, recognizing that mop of curly black hair and that smug grin too.

          Bellamy cocked an eyebrow at her and asked, “Alright, Princess?”

          “Of all the gin joints in all the world” Clarke muttered with an eye roll. She handed her suitcase over to Bellamy before he lifted it with ease into the stowaway compartment. Clarke moved to sit in her seat. When she looked up again, she found Bellamy still looming over her. She arched one eyebrow and sighed, “Was there something I could help you with?”

          His cocky grin turned sheepish as he rubbed the nape of his neck. He pointed to the empty seat next to Clarke and mumbled out a reply. She arched her eyebrow again, asking “did Murphy put you up to this?”

          Just then, the flight attendant moved through the aisle and requested in her thick Dutch accent that all passengers find their seats. Clarke let out a long sigh and blew a strand of hair from her face, and then she moved over to allow Bellamy access to his seat.

          Clarke removed her sketchbook and colored pencils from her purse and began sketching, carefully avoiding looking at Bellamy. He watched her nervously, twiddling his thumbs and counting the seconds. When he finally couldn’t take the tension anymore, he let out a humorless chuckle and announced, “You’re mad at me”. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

          Clarke placed her pencil down, and she slowly turned her head to look at Bellamy. She stared at him with a neutral expression for a moment before closing her sketchbook and replying, “You made it very clear that we aren’t friends, Bellamy. Or did I misinterpret what you meant by avoiding me for the past year?”

          “I am so sorry Clarke,” Bellamy whispered.

          She ignored him, and then proceeded to spend the remainder of the flight pretending to sleep.

+++  

          Once the plane landed, Clarke quickly yanked her suitcase from overhead and pushed herself further up the line, ensuring there were multiple people between herself and Bellamy.

          Murphy stood just outside the plane’s vestibule, impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for Clarke. As soon as she saw him, she strode right up to him and smacked him upside the head. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that Bellamy was going to be on the same fucking flight as us,” she growled.

          Murphy looked down at Clarke with a bemused expression before he looked up to see Bellamy heading in their direction. His expression morphed, and suddenly he looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Murphy laughed out, “I swear I didn’t invite him, Clarke. But I’m definitely glad he’s here. This is gonna be pure comedic gold”.

          Clarke huffed out an expletive before marching away while Murphy greeted Bellamy. She pulled out her phone to send a quick series of complaints to Lexa, surprised when she responded immediately because “Clarke, please don’t text me at work; some of us actually have responsibilities”.

          **Clarke** :GUESS WHO WAS ON MY FLIGHT

          **Lexa** : omg who

          **Clarke** : BELLAMY

          **Lexa** : that guy you used to be friends with? small world

          **Clarke** : CAN YOU BELIEVE HE TRIED TO TALK TO ME WTF

          **Lexa** : what's the big deal you used to be friends

          **Clarke** : key word- USED TO

          **Clarke** : idc he's dead to me

          **Lexa** : ok but you clearly care a lot

          **Lexa** : why does this mean so much to you?

           She groaned as she saw Lexa’s response. Why does she even care? Because they were friends! Because he tossed her aside as if she meant nothing when he started dating Gina! Because… because she cared about him but he obviously didn’t care about her.

          Frustrated that none of these reasons seemed like a good response for Lexa, Clarke shut off her phone. Murphy and Bellamy joined her on the curb, the former hailing a taxi.

          Clarke sat in the front seat of the taxi, conversing with the driver in an attempt to ignore Bellamy in the back. The taxi dropped Murphy and Clarke at their hostel first, because Bellamy was lodging elsewhere (so, at least one thing in her life could go right). Bellamy waved from the taxi’s window, promising to meet up with the pair for dinner.

+++  

          Clarke and Bellamy sat alone at the dinner table in silence. His leg bounced rapidly underneath the table, and his fingers tapped a beat on its surface. Almost immediately after sitting, Murphy’s phone had conveniently rung, and he had excused himself with a promise to come back as soon as his “very important business” was taken care of.

          “Why did you do it?” Clarke wondered aloud.

          Bellamy looked down at his hands. “You’re not gonna like it,” he warned.

          Clarke shrugged, and replied, “I already don’t like it” before motioning for him to continue.

          Bellamy explained how nervous he became whenever someone joked that he and Clarke were dating. He was nervous that she thought they were dating, of course, but he was even more nervous that maybe he wished it were true. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship by starting a romantic relationship, so he did the only thing that made sense at the time: ruin the relationship anyway.

          Clarke scoffed and nearly spit her drink. That was certifiably the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. She supposed that she couldn’t fault his child-like problem solving skills, as long as he reacted better in the future. Bellamy wrung his hands and looked down at the table again. When he looked up again, Clarke offered him a shy smile. She extended her hand toward his, and conceded, “Friends?”

          They shook on it. 

 

 

+++ 

**Turkey, four and a half years ago**

          Clarke had spent the last year traveling throughout Europe with nothing besides her small carry-on suitcase and a purse. Murphy had long since returned to the States, claiming to have had enough of this damned soul search. And since leaving Bellamy in the Netherlands the previous summer, Clarke had seen London, Paris, Madrid, Rome, Warsaw, Berlin, and Athens.

          Athens. It had been her favorite thus far. The ancient ruins reminded her of Bellamy, and part of her was disappointed when she left the city after two weeks and hadn’t coincidentally run into him.

          Her mother still nagged her to come home, of course. She threw Wells in her face, emphasizing how proud she and Thelonious were that Wells had already been promised a job at a major legal firm upon his graduation in two years. She threw her breakup with Lexa in her face, reminding Clarke that had she focused more on her relationship and less on her travels, perhaps Clarke wouldn’t be single. In spite of this, Clarke continued to travel. She promised herself she wouldn’t stop until she found what she was looking for. What she was looking for, however, she still didn’t know.

          Though Clarke had been traveling alone for the better part of the last year, she met people wherever she went. In Paris, she met Monty and Nate, a couple her age who bartended around the world. They would work for a few weekends to earn pocket money, then they would jet set across to globe only to bartend again. In Madrid, Clarke met Raven, who had experienced the “world’s worst breakup” from her fiancé Finn and consequently decided to escape for a while. _A while_ for Raven, however, meant years, for it had been two years since her break up and she hadn’t been home since.

          It was nice, honestly. Making friends with people who clearly shared her interests, it was nice. She was never lonely; she always had someone to drink at a bar with, or to share a taxi to the airport with. So when Clarke first saw Bellamy again, she couldn’t chalk up the somersault her stomach performed to her loneliness. In truth, he looked good. His hair had grown out a little, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush her fingers through his curls in a vain attempt to style it. He also grew a beard, which made him look so much older than only a year ago. Gone was the young boy travelling alone through a Moroccan souq, afraid to leave his sister behind in the States. The man in front of her now was older, sure, but the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled at her still held the same warmth.

          “Of all the gin joints,” Clarke breathed as she reached out to pull Bellamy into a hug. He squeezed her tight, lifting her feet off the ground. She squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck tighter as he spun them in a circle.

          When Bellamy finally placed her feet flat on the ground, he kept his hands on her waist. He looked down and spotted her suitcase knocked over on the floor by her feet. Clarke followed his gaze, and then elaborated, “I’m leaving tonight”.

          He lowered his head toward the floor with a sigh, and when he met her eyes again he huffed a humorless laugh. “Of course,” he began, “you’re leaving the day I arrive”.

          Clarke smiled shyly. “My flight isn’t for a few hours. You can still take me to dinner first,” she offered.

+++ 

          Bellamy helped Clarke out of her jacket, and then pulled out her chair for her. Once she was seated, she ran her hand through her hair repeatedly, trying to smooth down any flyaway strands. Bellamy eyed her hands with an arched eyebrow. “Nervous, Princess?” he quipped.

          Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, but much to Bellamy’s enjoyment her hand immediately dropped to her lap. Before Bellamy could poke fun some more, the waitress approached their table and the pair placed their drink orders.

          When the waitress walked away, Bellamy looked at Clarke. A small blush had crept onto her pale cheeks, and she wrung her hands in her lap. “You know,” Bellamy announced, “We absolutely **have** to try the Turkish delights, Clarke. I need to know what that bastard Edmund was thinking when he sold his family to the White Witch”.

          Just like that, the tension at the table broke. Clarke guffawed, and then responded, “God, you’re such a nerd, Bell”.

          After that, they talked continuously, only breaking the conversation briefly to order food. When Clarke handed over her phone to show Bellamy photos of Athens, they discovered that he had been there the same week as Clarke. (“What are the fucking odds of that,” Clarke muttered to herself)

          Clarke told Bellamy about Lexa, and how they had broken up because “Clarke you’re such a child… You need to come home and start your life with me and not go gallivanting around the world chasing after something (or someone, she hadn’t said, but Clarke had heard nonetheless)”

          Just like the first night Clarke met Bellamy at the souq, she was struck by what a great listener he was. He nodded along as she spoke, and he gasped at all the right places. He even knew exactly when to squeeze her hand, and exactly when to respond.

          The more they talked, the more Clarke realized she missed him. It had been just over two years since Morocco, and just as long since she had felt this close to him. Bellamy told her about Octavia, and how she was in a serious relationship, but no matter how hard Bellamy tried, he couldn’t find a reason to hate her boyfriend.

          (“I’m telling you, Clarke! This guy is **too** good to her. It’s just a little suspicious is all” Bellamy confessed.

          “Are you sure you just don’t like that she’s growing up?”

          Bellamy scowled, and then grumbled, “Okay, fine. There’s a very slim possibility you may possibly be right”.)

          Their waitress came over with a tray of Turkish Delights, and Bellamy’s eyes widened as he bit into one. “My God,” he announced. “I would sell **you** to the White Witch if it meant I could eat more of these”

          Clarke smacked his shoulder and laughed as their waitress delivered the check.

+++ 

          At the end of the night, Bellamy and Clarke stood on a curb outside the restaurant in Ankara. Clarke wanted nothing more than to ask him to come with her, ask him to follow her across the globe. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, and just as soon as she worked up the courage to ask him, her taxi pulled to the curb.

          “This is you,” Bellamy declared.

          She wrapped her arms around his neck, and looked up into his eyes. “Looks like it,” she whispered.

          Bellamy returned her embrace, and then leaned down to kiss her cheek. He quickly pulled away from to open the door to her cab. Clarke looked down toward the ground, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up her cheeks. She rubbed her arms up and down her bare shoulders, suddenly cool at the loss of his contact.

          She sat in the back, closing the door after her. With one hand out the window, Clarke waved to Bellamy as the cab pulled away. When he was no longer in her view, she let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. He was gone, and she had no idea when or if she’d see him again.

          Just as soon as she had resigned herself to her fate, had resigned herself to maybe never seeing him again, her phone dinged.

          **Bellamy** : it was great seeing you tonight

          **Clarke** : I'm glad we keep running into each other

          **Bellamy** : me too

          **Bellamy** : have a safe flight, Princess

          **Bellamy** : hopefully we'll run into each other soon

          Clarke smiled the rest of the way to the airport.

 

 

+++

**Belgium, two years ago**

          “I’m just saying,” Raven began, “that it’s fucking weird. Don’t you think it’s fucking weird?”

          Clarke groaned, and then she stuffed a speculaas into her mouth, hoping to avoid responding to Raven. Raven eyed her unimpressed.

          “Seriously, Clarke,” she argued with an eye roll. “You see this boy all over the world, and now you see his sister's Facebook post and you find out he’s in Belgium too. If I actually believed in that shit, I’d say you’re literal soul mates”.

          Clarke took a sip of her water, and adamantly avoided Raven’s gaze as they walked. Raven huffed in annoyance, and then continued. “You’re obviously going to call him, aren’t you?”

          Clarke stopped dead in her tracks as Raven spoke, and when Raven turned around she saw Clarke’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. “No, I’m not going to call him, Raven,” she began. Before Raven could protest, Clarke extended her hand and pointed across the street. “I’m not going to call him,” she continued, “because he’s right fucking there”.

          Hardly sparing a glance at the traffic, Raven ran across the street and yelled Bellamy’s name. He whipped around with a bemused expression, but his face split into a grin when he spotted Clarke trailing behind.

          “My, my, my,” Bellamy sang. “Look what the cat dragged in”.

          He opened his arms, and Clarke walked into his embrace. She buried her face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. He smelled like soap and firewood; he smelled like Bellamy.

          While the pair embraced, Raven locked eyes with Octavia and rolled her eyes. Octavia shrugged, then reached over to pound Bellamy on the back. “Bell,” she demanded, “aren’t you going to introduce us?”

          Bellamy and Clarke jumped apart as quickly as if they received an electric shock. Bellamy’s tan cheeks colored with a blush, and he shoved Octavia away from him. “Octavia, Lincoln, this is Clarke. Clarke, this is my sister Octavia and her boyfriend Lincoln,” Bellamy grumbled.

          Octavia marched forward with an extended hand and a predatory smile. “It is **so** nice to finally put a face to the name,” she announced. “And who is this?” Octavia inquired, pointing toward Raven.

          “Raven Reyes,” Clarke spoke up. “She’s a friend of mine”.

          Octavia shook Raven’s hand, and the two shared a knowing look.

          “Clarke and I were just about to head for lunch before she stuffs herself with too many speculaas. Would you guys like to join us?” Raven offered.

          Clarke knew she wouldn’t be able to get out of this one.

 +++

          While Clarke had heard many stories about Octavia from Bellamy, nothing prepared her for the complete interrogation she received upon sitting down at the restaurant. Octavia asked her about her family, her time at school, their semester abroad, her relationship history, and whether Bellamy should file a restraining order against her.

          Bellamy spluttered in response, which only seemed to spur Octavia on. “I’m just saying that it seems rather odd that the two of you ‘coincidentally’ run into each other all over the world. It just seems as though one of you is following the other. Don’t you agree?” she continued.

          “Well, I would agree with you…” Clarke began, “but then we’d both be wrong”.

          Octavia stared at Clarke for a moment with a calculating expression, and then her face broke out into a shit-eating grin. “I like this one, Bell,” she decided. “She has a good sense of humor”.

          Octavia’s response seemed to satisfy Bellamy, for he let out the breath he’d been holding. If Octavia decided she liked Clarke, then the interrogation would finally end.

          Lincoln then took it upon himself to break the tension at the table, so he began to tell the story of how his boss accidentally blew up the office microwave while cooking corn dogs the previous week.

          Clarke felt herself becoming more relaxed, and even began to enjoy the luncheon. Once she got past Octavia’s initial harsh exterior, she decided she truly liked the other girl. It was easy to see how close she and Bellamy were, and Clarke chalked the interrogation up to a fierce overprotectiveness rather than a complete lack of manners.

          When Raven and Octavia excused themselves to use the restroom, and Lincoln stepped outside to answer a phone call, Bellamy and Clarke found themselves conveniently alone.

          “I hope you know I’m not following you, either” Bellamy assured.

          Clarke arched an eyebrow at him, and then remarked, “Really? Because I was beginning to think Octavia has a point and that maybe one of us should file a restraining order”.

          “Holy shit I’m so sorry about her,” Bellamy laughed.

          Clarke reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his larger one, and then she gently squeezed. Looking into his eyes, she assured that Octavia didn’t bother her.

          Bellamy returned her gaze, and Clarke bit her lip to hide her growing smile. His eyes were dark brown (nearly black, really), and they sparkled in a way that reminded her of the night sky.

          Raven and Octavia stalked back to the table unnoticed. After exchanging a glance, Raven pleaded, “Can you two please stop eye-fucking? It’s making me lose my appetite”.

+++ 

          Only a short while after she and Raven parted ways from Lincoln and the Blakes, the girls sat at a bench in a local park. When Raven excused herself to take pictures of the statues, Clarke pulled out her phone and began scrolling through her Facebook feed. After only a minute, she stumbled upon a photo Octavia had recently posted. Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, Octavia and Lincoln all stood in front of the Grand Palace in Brussels with their arms around each other. Clarke smiled to herself as she read Octavia's caption: _Finally met the reason Bell never comes home_.

          When Raven approached, Clarke quickly closed out of her Facebook app. But the damage had been done. Raven gave her a once over, and she resembled the cat that ate the canary. “You’ve got it bad, Clarke,” she decided. “But, judging from the way his sister talks about you, so does he.”

          Clarke pantomimed hitting herself over the head, but she couldn’t hide the small, satisfied smile that crept onto her face. Whether or not she was ready to admit it aloud, she really hoped Raven was right.

 

 

+++

**Colorado, three months ago**

          Really, she should have known. When her boss told her that her shift tonight involved bartending the engagement party for a woman named Octavia, she should have known. Of course, she _was_ on the other side of the country from where they all grew up, and there _were definitely_ multiple people named Octavia in the country; but still, she should have fucking known. Why wouldn’t this Octavia be Bellamy’s sister? After seeing him in four different countries over the past five or so years, she’d be stupid to think that this Octavia was anyone but his sister.

          Since meeting Monty and Nate nearly four years prior, Clarke had taken a page from their book. Her mother had long since stopped funding her adventures, and as an unemployed traveler Clarke didn’t have much pocket change. So, just as Monty and Nate had advised, she began bartering wherever she traveled. In Thailand, Clarke offered to paint a portrait of the hotel in order to lodge for free. In Japan, she helped the hotel owner’s son learn English in exchange for free boarding. It was only now in Colorado that Clarke took on a real job: bar tending. She could work tending bar for a few months, and then save enough money to tour Central and South America by the fall.

          So when Clarke, wearing her white button up blouse with a black tie, locked eyes with Bellamy Blake across the function room, she groaned in frustration.

          It’s not that she didn’t want to see Bellamy again. No, it was quite the opposite, really. She wanted nothing more than to see him, especially for more than a few hours in passing once every few years. But here she was, working the first job she had in years without a break in sight. And here he was, standing in front of her looking unfairly attractive in a tux.

          He gestured down to his own black tie and smirked. “Well this is just awkward,” he crowed. “One of us is just going to have to change”.

          She bit her lip, but the crinkle around her eyes betrayed her laugh that was threatening to escape. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, and you walk into mine” Clarke responded.

          “If we’re going to blame anyone this time around, it’s going to be Octavia. She’s the one who decided to plan a fucking _destination_ _engagement party._ And in Colorado of all places!” Bellamy explained with his nose scrunched in distaste.

          Almost as if she had a sixth sense for when she was being insulted, Octavia barreled into the room. She looked gorgeous in a high-low floral gown and blue heels, and Clarke felt frumpy standing next to her in her beer scented work uniform.

          Octavia pulled Clarke into a tight hug, and as over-imposing and intrusive as ever, she motioned for Clarke’s manager to join them. “How much do I have to pay for Clarke to have the night off?” Octavia begged with puppy-dog eyes.

          Clarke spluttered, and tried to wave off Octavia’s request. But her manager was already giving the desolate bar a once over. “Okay, Griffin, you can have the night off,” he decided. “Just make sure you’re back here tomorrow morning for the brunch shift.

          Just as soon as she was relieved of her duties, Bellamy was tugging Clarke by the hand into the function room. She immediately felt underdressed and overwhelmed by all of the people in gowns and suits.

          Her feelings of discomfort quickly dissipated, however. Octavia spoke to her at a mile a minute, flaunting her engagement ring and saying how excited she was for her wedding, and how excited she was to see Clarke again. Bellamy leaned against the wall and watched the two women interact as he sipped his drink.

          When Octavia was stolen away by a group of middle-aged women gushing over her ring, Bellamy came closer to Clarke and placed a hand on the small of her back. He extended a drink toward her, which she gratefully accepted and took a sip of.

          “You must be excited,” Clarke decided as she leaned back into his chest. “Your little sister is getting married”.

          A large smile unconsciously grew on Bellamy’s face, which looked out of place compared to his regular smirk. He looked fondly over at Octavia, who was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.

          “I’m happy for her,” he replied.

          Clarke nodded. She stood with him there, watching the partygoers. Lincoln stood in the middle of the dance floor where two young girls were attempting to teach him the Cotton-Eyed Joe. Bellamy followed her gaze, and then chuckled. “Those are Lincoln’s nieces,” he explained.

          Clarke nodded again.

          Suddenly, the music changed. No longer was the country-line-dancing song playing; instead a slow-tempo song played in its place. Bellamy placed his drink on a nearby table, and reached to grab Clarke’s as well. When she arched one eyebrow in question, he extended his hand and motioned toward the dance floor.

          Bellamy placed one hand on the small of Clarke’s back, and his other hand held hers. He pulled her close to him, and slowly twirled them around in small circles.

          “You look beautiful tonight,” Bellamy whispered so quietly that Clarke almost assumed she misheard him.

          Looking down at her uniform, Clarke scoffed. “And you’re a liar,” she deadpanned.

          When Clarke looked up again from her uniform, her eyes locked with Bellamy’s. He stared at her intently, and Clarke almost thought she saw him move his head a fraction of an inch closer. Was Bellamy Blake about to kiss her? But just then, the song changed again.

          Just like that, the spell was broken and the moment was over. Bellamy shook his head, as if trying to clear out any wayward thoughts, and then released Clarke from his grasp. He made his way back toward his drink, and Clarke was left to follow.

 +++

          As the last of Octavia’s guests began to clear out, Clarke found herself alone with Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln. Clarke and Bellamy hadn’t been alone together for the remainder of the evening, and Clarke was left wondering whether or not she had imagined her and Bellamy’s almost kiss.

          When Octavia and Lincoln excused themselves to settle their tab at the bar, Bellamy declared that he was going to bed. The Blakes and Lincoln were staying in the same hotel where Clarke works (and subsequently stays). She agreed to ride the elevator up toward their rooms.

          In the elevator, Clarke felt inexplicably nervous suddenly. She twisted her hair around her finger repeatedly. After a moment, Bellamy reached over and stilled her hand in his. Even once it was clear Clarke wouldn’t keep twirling her hair, Bellamy kept her hand in his with their fingers interlocked.

          They reached Clarke’s floor first, and she moved to disentangle herself. As the elevator came to a stop, she stood up on her tiptoes to kiss Bellamy’s cheek. With one final wave, she left the elevator and began to walk toward her room.

          Just as the elevator doors were about to close, Bellamy caught them with his arm and forced them open again. “Clarke!” He yelled as he poked his head out the doors. She had only walked about halfway down the corridor, and she turned her head with a questioning expression.

          He jumped out of the elevator and followed to meet her down the hallway. Bellamy stopped with only a foot between them, and he looked toward his shoes on the ground. When he looked up again to meet her gaze, he saw that she was smirking at him.

          “I wasn’t ready to say good night,” Bellamy admitted.

          “Good, because neither am I,” Clarke replied before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him closer. Bellamy pushed her back against the door, his lips bruising hers. Clarke fumbled for the room key, and as the door swung open the pair stumbled inside the dark room with laugh. Bellamy continued backing Clarke up toward the bed until suddenly her knees hit the end and she sat back. Pulling his tie, Clarke gently moved Bellamy until he hovered over her.

          Had someone told Clarke six years ago what it would feel like to kiss Bellamy Blake, she’d have done it a lot sooner.

 +++

          The next morning, Clarke woke up with Bellamy’s hand splayed over her bare abdomen. She stretched contentedly, and rolled over to face him. He looked peaceful as he slept; he resembled the boy from Morocco when he slept more so than the man from his sister’s engagement party.

          Clarke reached up to press a chaste peck to his lips, and Bellamy’s eyes fluttered open. “Good morning, Princess,” he breathed.

          His voice was raspy from sleep, and his hair was more mussed than normal. She reached a hand up to try to smooth out his curls, but Bellamy grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand to his mouth, pressing kisses to her palm.

          Clarke’s alarm suddenly began to blare, and she realized it was nearly time for her shift at the bar. She decided she definitely couldn’t miss her shift this morning after being dismissed the night before. She jumped up out of the bed, and immediately felt cold at the loss of Bellamy’s touch.

          After quickly brushing her teeth, washing her face, and putting on the same uniform as the night before, Clarke gave herself a once-over in the mirror. Yep, it was time for work. Yep, she **still** looked like someone who just had a one-night stand. Nope, there was no time to remedy that now.

          “Clarke…” Bellamy began, before she interrupted him.

          Clarke moved toward the bed, and bent to peck his lips. “Pleasure running into you as always, Bellamy” she said as she darted out the door.

          Bellamy was left lying in bed with his forearm blocking the light from his eyes, wondering how to fuck he just let her slip away.

 

 

+++ 

**Mexico, present day**

          **Bellamy** : I saw your Facebook post

          **Bellamy** : you're in Mexico City?

          **Clarke** : yep!

          **Bellamy** : no fucking way

          **Bellamy** : me too

          **Clarke** : *Clarke Griffin wants to share her location*

          Clarke closed out of her messages then locked her phone, smiling like and idiot, and then she gently tossed it onto the grass. She knelt in front of the ofrenda where her father’s picture stood, wishing he were alive today, wishing he could help her gain her mother’s approval, wishing he could give her advice. It had been fifteen years, and it still seemed surreal to her that her father wasn’t around anymore.

          A while later, as Clarke bowed her head, someone placed another photo on the ofrenda. Clarke turned her head, and locked eyes with Bellamy. Of course she had known he was going to be in Mexico City for Día de los Muertos, but actually seeing him was another thing. She hadn’t seen him since Octavia and Lincoln’s engagement party, and after that night she was worried their relationship may have been ruined.

          One look at the shy smile on his face, however, informed Clarke that she had nothing to worry about, that they would be fine.

          He gestured toward his photo on the ofrenda. “My mother,” he explained.

          She nodded, and then patted the ground in front of the ofrenda beside her.

          The pair of them sat in companionable silence, appreciating the nice weather and observing the other families picnicking in the cemetery.

          Finally, Clarke broke the silence. “Since Morocco, I’ve been traveling trying to find something. I think I’ve finally found it”.

          “Oh yeah?” Bellamy asked, plucking the grass from the earth as he moved his gaze to meet hers. “What is it you found?”

          “It’s really cliché… so don’t make fun of me” she warned.

          “You know I can’t promise you that, Princess” Bellamy replied

          “Well, I’ve been traveling the world searching for **something** all these years. And I never knew what that something was. But, now I think that it was actually **someone** , and that he’s been traveling with me all along”.

          Instead of poking fun at her and calling her cheesy as Clarke had expected, Bellamy cupped her cheek and closed the distance between them. She sighed happily when their lips met, and she moved her lips in synchronicity with his. While her hands combed through his messy curls, his free hand moved toward the small of her back, and he pressed her as close to him as possible, hoping to move closer still.

          The kiss was sloppy, and mostly teeth hitting teeth because neither one of them could stop smiling for longer than a moment. When they finally broke apart, Clarke grinned so wide that Bellamy thought she could probably light up the entire universe with it.

          "You did mean me, right?" Bellamy quipped.

          Clarke reached over to playfully smack his shoulder, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him again. It had taken nearly seven years, but Clarke Griffin decided that from now on every _gin joint_ she walked into would be with Bellamy Blake.


End file.
